i have a question for you
by stilessttilinski
Summary: I laugh and I laugh and it's all too much. - ScorpiusRose, for Hope.


**a/n: idk i was really in the mood for some angsty scorrose.**

**disclaimer: j.k. rowling ©**

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><p>I want to ask you, Do you think I am coming back? Do you?<p>

Do you wish for it, at the very least? Do you remember my laughter and the smoke blown in perfect circles from my lips, do you remember the way your head felt against my chest?

Are you lonely? I hope you are. No, I don't. I don't. Loneliness is the worst of them all.

I think I'm out of fags. Fuck.

I can't function. Can't think. What? What?

Sometimes bits and pieces hit me, so fucking forcefully I can barely get my fingers to stop shaking enough to grab the lighter from my pocket.

Sometimes I smoke way too much and I get into this sort of high when I realize that I am not alone in this world, and we aren't soul mates, or are we?

Are we? Is it all a game of chance? Would I have ended up with some ditzy blonde and you someone more worthy, a fucking hero?

Is chance fate? Is fate chance? It hurts my head to think about this for too long. I smoke a lot. Way too often, you see.

Then again you know that. I know you know that. You used to see me every morning, me waking you up with the faint odor; you smiling up at me and winking and stealing the fag from my hand, and then lightly brushing your fingers over my crotch.

I laugh and I laugh and it's all too much.

You're right there, so far but so fucking in reach but I told you I was gone, forever, and is it a little too late to change that? Would you love me twice if you could?

I wouldn't if I were you, but then again, I'm not you.

We are distinctly different and yet the same; we like the same music and we have the same hobbies and we both loved each other once.

But we're not the same and I don't know if we'll ever be and I don't know how okay that is, if I can deal with the constant screaming and the arguments and the blowups and the make ups. I don't know if I can do it and I don't know if you can and I don't know if eventually, maybe, we'll mellow out and we'll be just like your parents, sweet and loving and somehow I do not see that happening.

I need a fag.

x

I'm not going to say we made each other better because we probably made each other worse. I smoked a lot more when I saw your blond head in the morning, tussled from last night's sex.

I drank a lot more too. Experimented a lot more. Whiskey and mix drinks and so many liquor shots that I lost count.

We were happier when we were drunk. I guess that's something. Then again, in all truth, everyone is happier when drunk so I suppose that does not say much about you nor me.

You put the fire in me and I burned, but I'm not dead so I guess it burned in a good way.

I tend to talk in clichés. You've heard it in action. It's really odd, because I think the nineteen-fifties version of myself comes out way more when I'm with you. The inner girl that wants to be romanced and wooed.

I think about this, and I don't. I don't really want to be romanced or wooed and I don't want you to love me or me to love you in any other way than the way we're functioning now.

Well, not now, but before. Before was nice, before was easy.

Because you're gone and I'm sort of lonely but not really because mostly I'm just numb.

Apathetic.

x

You know, I think if I squint a bit, I can see you hovering over me, kneeling around my hips, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head.

Instead it's someone that has a slight familial resemblance to you, but she's there smiling at me with blonde hair and not red and I think I could fall in love with _her_ twice.

But we're soul mates, and I'm out of fags, and I think I might miss you.

I'm not quite sure if I could fall in love with you for the second time. I don't know if it's because I don't need to or if it's because I don't want to.

x

You always smell like smoke and that bothers me because that means you'll probably disappear.

Your disappearing act is pretty fucking amazing, which is neither a good or bad thing, probably just neutral, probably just something in the grayish sort of area, because sometimes you need to disappear and sometimes you do it because you want to.

Either way it fucking hurts.

x

I don't know why you liked so many Muggle things, really. You insisted, always, on trying the Muggle blue drinks that made you pop and fizz and laugh a lot more.

It wasn't you and it wasn't me and it wasn't us and I guess it wasn't really good.

But it felt good.

I really need a smoke.

x

I know that you're with Dominique. Is this some form of revenge? Most likely it's just you being your usual whore-ish self.

That's okay. You don't love her.

You don't love me, though, so I guess she's already one step ahead of me.

The thing is, you've never told me you loved me but I never had to be told, so I'm not quite sure if I'm supposed to be angry about this or not.

I'm not quite sure of anything.

x

I think I'll run out and buy a new pack. Yes. I think I will.

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><p><strong>an: um wut. this is actually for Hope (AccioHope), but yeah. uh.**

**please don't favorite without reviewing!**


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